I had the awesome opportunity of spending three days and two
nights in early December with my 89-year-old father at his home
in Tennessee. I was able to give my wonderful stepmother a much
needed vacation to visit with her brother. So Dad and I were together alone. This
time together was extremely heartwarming.
My father is blessed to still get around fairly well with
the help of his walking stick. We got a chance to really reconnect. Our time together
felt very comfortable and very familiar. Aside from Christmas get-togethers and
a weekly Sunday night telephone call, I felt I had lost a little closeness with
my father. That was my fault. This one-on-one time allowed us to get to know
each other better and to tell old stories again and again.
Dad stays remarkably well-informed. He gets home delivery
of two daily newspapers, the Chattanooga Free Press and the small local paper. He spends a lot of time reading each paper. He is remarkably well-informed on
both local and national news. He looks younger than his 89 years and has very
few wrinkles. I try to encourage him by telling him that he can make it 11 more
years to 100.
Coincidentally, I read in USA Today that the 2010 census
found that there were 53,364 people ages 100 and older. Four out of five
Americans who make it to 100 are women but we guys are catching up. The
population 100 and older makes up a small portion of the total US population
representing fewer than two per 10,000 people. Also more than half, 63%, of
centenarians were age 100 or 101. My guess is that after a person reaches that century
milestone, they probably give up on trying living longer. There are just 330
super centenarians, ages 110 and older. So if anyone can make it to 100, my
father will make it.
I would guess that living with him on a daily basis could
be a challenge. Like many older people with poor circulation, he likes to keep
his house very warm. He keeps his heat up to 72°, which feels very warm to me.
Also, like many older people who grew up in times of
tremendous shortage, he loves to hoard the basic necessities. We went shopping at
the supermarket and he ambled over to the aisle with the toilet tissue. He
wanted to see if there were any bargains available today. I said firmly with a
smile, “Dad, you have 108 rolls of toilet tissue in your house because I
counted them before we left home. Assuming that you were to use two rolls per
week, which is unlikely, that is still a two-year supply. Let's keep moving.” He smiled back.
While I was driving his older yet well maintained Buick around
town, Dad reminded me to “Get in this lane.” or “Be ready to turn here.” I had
a vivid flashback to when I was 15 and he was first teaching me how to drive. Hearing
his constant stream of driving instructions was both slightly irritating and
tremendously nostalgic.
I read that there are four stages in your life:
- You are first children to your parents
- You are next parents to your children
- You are next parents to your parents when they get old (where I am now)
- Finally you are children to your parents when you get very old (I am thankfully not there yet)
So I suppose that I acted as a parent to my father about the
toilet tissue. I felt comfortable telling him that he had enough toilet tissue.
I believe that he felt comfortable also because he laughed. Perhaps he felt a
little resentment also, not unlike a teenager whose request to borrow the
family car was just turned down by his parents. I hope that when I get older, I
will have the same good-natured sense of humor about my own idiosyncrasies.
Spending time with my father was perhaps a stark preview of
my own future. Will I be a hoarder of toilet tissue? Will I become bossy and tell
everybody around me how they should best attempt every small task? I hope not
but I cannot guarantee it.
So what is my advice for you? If your parents are still
alive, then I suggest that you carve out of your busy schedule two or three
days when you can spend quality time with them and only them. A holiday party, while
lots of fun, does not give you the opportunity to closely connect one-on-one with
the people you most love. I will never forget this time with my Dad.
